


Hellmouth

by doc_boredom



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Lots of Innuendo, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, N O T H I N G, Pet Names, WE'RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER, and brothels i guess, anyways it's 3 am and i should sleep, because that's like what ghost does, do i fucking tag this with satanism, feat. phobos's respiratory problems, hey aren't i good at tagging?, i do like dew tho he's got sass for days, i know nothing about ghost, if you're not aware of ghost uhhh same hat?, if you're not aware of twrp uhhhhh welcome?, it's good, made up my own lore, okay i think everything's tagged now, sacrilegious latin usage, shit ass swedish translations, swiss is there and he is ANGRY and a big ol grump and deserves a hug, there's plot too!, this is TECHNICALLY TWRPCLUB LMAO, this is also lowkey called phobos has a sexual awakening and gets a hot ass demon bf, twrpclub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 18:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17668001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doc_boredom/pseuds/doc_boredom
Summary: “What surface harboring sentiment, personified whom we resent? What black spat back?” Dew smiled a smile that would make angels weep, beatific in every right. “Hellmouth, hellmouth.”A song, a poem, a premonition. Whatever it was, it held a weight to it, an inexplicable significance. Phobos felt a shudder run down his spine at it. Hellmouth, hellmouth. The Lepid’s lids closed and he felt something sigh out of him.-sometimes... your friends buy you minecraft, and you want to write them something because you love them so much.so we're here.





	Hellmouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leigh8786](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh8786/gifts).



> HI THE LYRICS ARE FROM CHOIRBOY'S HELLMOUTH AND I HIGHLY RECOMMEND LISTENING TO LITCHERALLY ANY OF HIS MUSIC OKAY THANKS BYE ENJOY READING THIS HOT MESS

It almost never happened, but it could and it would. The four of them splitting up to take a corner of the universe for a span of indefinite time, sometimes for the hell of it and sometimes just because, in Meouch’s words, shit needed to be done.

The aloneness came as a strange comfort to Phobos. More often than not he’d go places where people didn’t know who he was. Couldn’t know either. The last remaining Lepid Lord in all the stars and sky, walking among them without consequence or meaning- just another face in the crowd.

“Hey, hey Phobos!” Sung’s voice crackled to life inside of his helmet. He cringed and brought his hand up to the side, adjusting the volume subtly as he floated through space. “How’s it going on your end?”

He stifled a groan and switched to another channel, tapping away in Morse code to Havve before flipping back to Sung. There was a momentary pause before the empath gave a soft “oh, I see! Very good. Glad to hear it.” in response, the message apparently relayed.

Talking wasn’t impossible, but when he had his helmet on he stuck to his vow. Not a word, not a peep. Just the bliss of self imposed silence and the muffled sounds of the outside world calling to him through metal and glass. He flipped to Havve’s channel once more, clicking furiously.

I T-H-I-N-K I-M G-O-I-N-G O-F-F-L-I-N-E F-O-R N-O-W . He informed the other.

S-U-N-G I-S G-O-I-N-G T-O F-L-I-P . Havve told him, somehow infusing each tap with amusement.

A-N-D ?

He grinned despite himself behind the mask, feeling defiant. Sung meant well, but he didn’t check in on Meouch like this, or Havve either. He was the youngest of the group, sure, but that didn’t make him helpless! T-E-L-L H-I-M I-L-L C-A-L-L I-F I-M I-N T-R-O-U-B-L-E . He informed the robot. T-H-A-N-K-S H-A-V-V-E .

He didn’t even wait to get any kind of response, instead fiddling around with his helmet until silence fell in full as he continued to float just above his destination. Strange comforts, blissful happenstance, endless possibility.

Just the way Phobos liked it.

The descent onto the Junker was easy, his jet pack taking the influx in gravity and atmospheric changes like a charm. They made these places as low tech as possible, after all, trying to bring all sorts. There were too many buildings, Phobos noted as he got his bearings, all of them leaned up against one another like workers after a too long day, worn and nearing collapse. The streets spilled out smoke and neon, and in the distance he could hear shopkeepers hocking their wares in Universal, hoping to grab the attention of any passerby.

He licked his lips behind his mouthpiece. The air felt electric even through his suit. This _had_ to be the place. There were strange rumors drifting about. Rumors of people up and disappearing into the night, of writhing shadows cast upon the ground, of strange chants echoing out into the dark and unknown symbols drawn on walls in fresh blood.

I’ll call if I’m in trouble, he reminded himself. Besides, it’s not like they’d do the same for him. He clenched his fists and quickened his pace. Sweet Phobos, darling Phobos, Phobos who could do no harm. Like he hadn’t ran Meouch through with a sword to take one of his lives with the stumps of his torn wings still bleeding out years ago. You could be that person if it really boiled down to it, if you really needed to be that _thing_ again, he told himself as his stomach twisted itself up into knots.

He just hoped it didn’t come down to that.

There were more people now, not caring if they bumped into him as they hurried down the narrow streets. Illegal hovers zipped by above head, too close for comfort, finally forcing him off to the side and into the thick of the crowd. They’d eat him alive if they knew who he was, what he was. Pull him onto the black market without a second thought, wings or not.

His chest went tight with sudden breathlessness and he couldn’t press the respirator button on his helmet fast enough.

The air pushed down into him and he sighed with it. Focus, Phobos. There were more important things to tend to. He needed a starting point, somewhere to get him on the right track. If he was Sung he’d already be chatting up the locals, smiling endlessly, finding it all too easy to get them to open up. Havve would have his knife at the ready as he stalked through the crowd, the very sight of him reason enough to admit any kind of secrets you could hold, and Meouch? He’d be in the dive bars making bets, leaned against pool tables, a cigarette in one paw and a beer in the next.

So what are you good at, Phobos?

Getting people to let their guard down! But that usually came with the presence of his voice and his face, so he’d have to try something else. He sighed inside his helmet once more and brought his hands up to it, cradling it miserably. Maybe he wouldn’t get in over his head, maybe he’d just stall out before this even began. Think Phobos, think, think, think. There had to be something.

Guitar. Obviously. You’re very good at guitar. And reading. And taking care of plants and baking too. Maybe those assumptions about him were correct, he realized with an embarrassed groan. Sweet and soft like cotton candy... Oh gods, he was even pink! This was getting to be too real.

Someone ran into him, causing him to stumble into the next person, and them into the next like a domino effect. “You gonna just stand there all day?” The first alien hissed, her gills flaring, blackened needle teeth gleaming in her too large mouth.

Sorry, his mouth shaped the word without even saying it, caught up on his tongue. There were hands on his chest then, on the parts his armor didn’t cover, pushing him as she growled deep in her throat. “You not gonna say nothin’, huh? No apology for me?” The other alien sneered. “Too good for that?”

He shook his head with a soft despairing noise. No, it’s not like that. Please just let me go. Phobos held his hands up with his palms out before pointing at his mouth, hoping she’d understand, but she gripped the straps of his armor instead and pulled him close, the smell of rotting fish rolling over him as she grinned. “This all looks like it could fetch a pretty penny. Howabout you let met take it and we call it even, huh?”

He had a decision to make. He swallowed thickly and closed his lids, issuing a silent apology before bringing his knee up into her groin. Who knew what kind of business she had down there but whatever it was caused her to grunt and stumble back, releasing her hold. “Fucker!” She screamed after him before her speech trailed off into her native tongue. Phobos was running now, not even daring to spare a glance back.

“So Phobos, how’d the mission go?” The imaginary Sung in his head questioned as he slipped further into the crowd.

“Oh, you know.” His imaginary self answered back breezily. “Landed safely. Kicked a lady in her private parts.”

It would probably be funny in the moment, downright hilarious. A joke like “what are you, Meouch?” would be made and they would all laugh, but right now he couldn’t afford to laugh. Each breath felt like fire in his chest, near impossible to suck in before he was forced to push it out again. She was still screaming after him though so he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t.

Phobos skittered down an alleyway and gave a choking sound of relief when he saw it branched out in two different directions. Perfect. He could lose her in the twists and turns of the backstreets, that is, he could if he didn’t keel over first. Phobos could barely breathe at this point, his vision going dark.

Left or right? Right or left? He threw himself to the left and then immediately again to the right. He didn’t know if she was still following or not, the pounding of his heart inside of his head too loud to ignore. Phobos gasped, choking on it, his throat closing up in response. He tripped into the next turn and fell against the wall, slamming his hand against the side of his helmet frantically. He’d take anything at this point. The sound of Sung’s voice tight with worry, a rush of air into his lungs…

He looked up and found a dead end staring right back.

There was a laugh behind him and Phobos half stumbled, half spun, finding the alien woman staring him down on the other side. “Oh honey, you don’t know these streets like I do.” She snarled, grinning savagely, the smoke coiling around her feet. “You don’t know anything at all.”

There wasn’t enough air in him to scream so instead Phobos just stared at her in growing horror. There was something off kilter to her now, a shine in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, a subtle shift to her form. Possessed. She looked like she was possessed!

Rumors of people disappearing in the night, the Lepid recalled. It was a trap. Of course it was. He dragged in a desperate breath and in turn the world titled under his very feet. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. There was no way…

Too late the thought of his jetpack hit him as his panic finally began to subside, but by then the dark was closing in fast, unavoidable. It was painfully easy to fall headfirst into it, even as he spied her grim smile and the way her eyes began to bleed black.

He heard a pained grunt as he lay there gasping on the concrete, swimming in and out of consciousness. A scream followed, and then another, and then suddenly all Phobos could smell was fish rot and blood.

The alien fell with a sickening thud next to him, her chin covered in blood, her throat slit...

Phobos couldn’t breathe. His fingers scrambled on the concrete, slipping through the blood that had begun to pool out of her. His vision went black once more, but not before he saw silvered horns.

The world became death dark.

This is how you die, Phobos thought as he faded out. On your back, no stars, choking on the lack of breath inside of you. As it should be, as it was meant to be…

A name rang out in the absence, a lone bell, a summon.

_Hellmouth._

He gasped back into existence without warning, taken aback when he came to the realization that his helmet was no longer in place. How? Why? The Lepid blinked, his brain still trying to play catch up with everything that had managed to happen. There were hands on him, he realized, unbelievably warm as they cradled his face. He blinked again and saw silver, black, and then pink as whatever it was stuck it’s tongue out at him and licked him.

 _Your mouth is much sweeter._ It mused inside his head, causing him to give a choked gasp as he lay there, frozen in place. _But maybe that was just Death’s kiss upon your lips. You nearly died, you know. I saved you._

“How?” Phobos managed out roughly, not quite sure what question he wanted to start with. The thing straddling him laughed fondly inside his head and leaned closer, fingers sliding down his jaw, the silver mask upon its face pressing into his neck, surprisingly soft for how sharp it appeared. Something else pressed against his fluttering pulse, causing Phobos to shudder, unsure of whether it was it’s fingers or mouth.

“Dew!”

It jumped up and Phobos saw another like it standing at the alley’s entrance, done up in similar sharp black and masked silver, just like his apparent savior. It was a bit larger though, the horns slightly longer upon its high brow. “You little pervert,” It growled. “Leave the poor boy alone.”

The thing named Dew pouted and surprised Phobos as it began to speak out loud. “What? Can’t I have a little fun, Swiss? What would Copia say if he was here?”

The large one shook its head, arms crossing over it’s chest. “Don’t bring the Cardinal into this, you little shit. Now get up. I mean it.”

“But I like this one.”

He was trapped. Dew’s arms had snaked around him as he snuggled closer, his mask pressing back against his throat. Phobos’s mouth worked uselessly, unsure of what was happening, not knowing what to do or say. Gods, was this really happening? Was this all just a dream? Or had he died and ended up in some weird, inexplicable purgatory? Swiss groaned and stomped over, grabbing Dew by the back of his button up before dragging him up. _“_ _För fan i helvete!”_ Swiss snarled at his smaller companion. “Cease and desist, we’ve got more important things to do.”

“What’s going on?”

They both looked at him, as if the fact that he had spoken more than one word had surprised them both. Or maybe it was the stupidity of the question. But he couldn’t get it out of his head, the way that woman’s eyes had bleed, the scream, the rot.

And that word, that name, that _thing_.

Hellmouth.

 _Terrible things_ . Dew’s voice found it’s way into his head again. _And not the kind we condone._

“And the woman…?” She was nowhere to be found. Just what had they done with her?

Phobos swore he saw something like a smirk flash from under his mask. _Not your problem,_ älskade _._

“But it is!” Phobos shoved to his feet only to have his legs nearly go out from under him. Swiss was faster through, dropping Dew unceremoniously before catching him in a single fluid motion.

“Don’t bother with that one, he likes to play games, a real tease.” On cue Dew’s tongue flicked out, a giggle following moments later. “As for the woman, she’s been taken care of, and any like her are going to be handled discretely as well, _litet barn_. Fret not.”

“Then what’s hellmouth?!”

What else did Phobos have but that strange name that had come to him from seemingly nowhere only to disappear again? He was desperate at this point, painfully aware that they were moments from leaving him there all alone. He looked up to find Swiss’s dark, hollow eyes on him, unreadable.

“Oh, my.” Dew purred, pushing up on his elbows, slim fingers framing his mask. “Now that’s unexpected, isn’t it Swiss?”

“Fuck off.” He snapped, not even bothering to look at the smaller Ghoul. He dipped his head down towards Phobos, tilting it just so. “How do you know that term?”

Phobos managed himself out of the other’s grip, his brow knitting. No more helpless Phobos. He was going to get the answers he deserved. “Tell me… what it means.” He whispered back. “And then I’ll explain.”

They were at an impasse that neither of them wanted to budge on. Phobos felt his hands curl at his sides, his chest going tight once more, this time with anticipation. In turn Swiss rocked back onto his heel, his head tilting in the other direction as he continued to study him. There was a soft sound then, a clearing of one’s throat, and they both found themselves looking at Dewdrop. He was still lounging on the ground, and above his head wriggled a spade-tipped tail that looked absolutely devilish. “Don’t.” Swiss warned, as if he already knew what was about to unfold.

“ _What surface harboring sentiment, personified whom we resent? What black spat back?_ ” Dew smiled a smile that would make angels weep, beatific in every right. “ _Hellmouth, hellmouth_.”

A song, a poem, a premonition. Whatever it was, it held a weight to it, an inexplicable significance. Phobos felt a shudder run down his spine at it. _Hellmouth, hellmouth._ The Lepid’s lids closed and he felt something sigh out of him.

“Copia is going to have your hide when we get back, you little brat.” Swiss hissed out. “We are bound to his will and the Clergy’s and you’re telling complete strangers-!”

Dew popped up and circled Swiss once before making his way over to Phobos. “He isn’t a stranger, Swiss. He’s my subjugate.” Those lanky arms were circling him again and the Lepid could only stand there uselessly as Dewdrop snuggled close, unbelievably warm.  
Swiss groaned and covered his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Dew. Really?”

“Really really.”

“I didn’t agree to this!” Phobos finally spluttered, cheeks heating, making sense of what was being said.  

 _Well then you shouldn’t have nearly died,_ älskade _. My mark is on you now until I choose to release you_ . The ghoul informed him in a too sweet voice, arms settling around his waist. No _harm shall come to you while you’re under my charge, so really, this is extremely fortunate for you!_

“Morningstar, help me.” At least Swiss seemed just as off put by this turn of events as he was. He was kind of like Meouch in a way. Stern, done with most bullshit before it had already begun. Gods, speaking of his friends, what was he going to tell Sung? Any of them for that matter… “Fine, if that’s the burden you want to put upon yourself, then carry that cross Dew. Just don’t expect any help from me or anyone else when it all goes to hell.”

Dew snorted, giving off the air of someone rolling their eyes in that moment. “I’m my own Ghoul, Swiss. I can handle myself quite well.”

Swiss eyed them both and Phobos paled under the scrutiny, unconsciously leaning back into Dewdrop as the larger one neared. “For obvious reasons I don’t believe you, little flame.” It was Swiss’s turn to smile at Phobos, but this one wasn’t as pretty. It gleamed out from the darkness under his mask, flat and bland. “Be careful not to get burned, _litet barn_. This one likes to likes to start things that soon blaze out of his control.”

 _Bastard._ Dew growled in his head, going hot. _We don’t need him._

Phobos wasn’t so sure about that.

-

 

There were many more of them, apparently.

They had come up with names for each other, Phobos learned, rather than remaining nameless. Their purpose was infernal, according to Dewdrop, to spread the word of the clergy and their god.

But there was the little fact that they weren’t actually supposed to be here.

“Someone summoned us.” Despite his angry words and dismissal Swiss was still with them. He didn’t seem too thrilled with the fact, something Dew was also in agreement with. “To this strange world of yours, filled with strange gods and suspended disbelief. They brought something else too, something worse than us.”

“Hellmouth.” Dewdrop explained, apparently sensing Phobos’s confusion. He was wearing his helmet again as they slipped through the crowd, flanked by the two ghouls. “More often than not it’s a doorway to hell, but we’ve come under the assumption that it’s become something else. Mutated, if you will. Whether that be a real monster or a force of nature is yet to be found.”

Swiss nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation. “It’s possessing the weak willed, the dregs of your society. That woman before was a vessel for it. That’s why we had to kill her.”

Phobos nodded because it was all he could do. His head was swimming with all the information they had loaded onto him, not to mention that he was sworn to one of these faceless demons. _So now what?_ He wondered to himself.

 _We find the source,_ Dew answered back.

Phobos gasped and whipped his head towards the impish ghoul. _Oh, yes, I can hear your thoughts too,_ älskade _. You’re mine; for now, that is._ The ghoul touched his back with brand hot fingers, tracing a shape against the slippery smooth material of his suit under his jetpack. _Does that fact please you?_

Yes, no, gods… Of all the situations he could imagined happening to him, Phobos hadn’t been expecting this. Hell’s mark was upon his brow now and that wasn’t something to be taken lightly. And there was the fact that Dewdrop seemed all too eager to take up the role of an Incubi alien, unable to keep his hands off of him, his voice sinuous sweet, a temptation that couldn’t be ignored.

“Morningstar, Dew. If you want to fuck your new plaything, find somewhere private to do it.” Swiss growled. Phobos’s cheeks flooded with heat and he quickly wormed his way towards the other ghoul, not trusting himself to look back. “I don’t know what’s worse, Dew’s damned pheromones or your painfully obvious virginity.” The older ghoul muttered under his breath. Great, now he was embarrassed for a completely different reason.

Dew was unfazed. “Later, once this is all taken care of.” He said in a painfully nonchalant voice, causing Phobos to cover his face with a weak noise. “Or now, if you’re really that eager…”

Phobos threw his hands up, almost screaming. _NO!_

 _I don’t believe you, but I will respect your current decision._ Dew chuckled. _Maybe later you’ll change your mind._

Phobos narrowed his eyes behind his helmet before looking away, willing his flush away.

_Can we please focus?_

_No fun_. Dew sassed him before turning his attention to his supposed friend. “Where are we going, Swiss? What’s your master plan?”

“That woman worked at a nearby pleasure den. I want to see if anyone else has been infected there, or if they have any information on where she came from.” Of course it would be a pleasure den, Phobos despaired. Dew’s smile was miles wide, so bright it could rival Sung’s. “I want you to focus, Dew.”

“I am! We have an obligation to the Clergy to spread their teachings. This is the perfect place!”

“You’re actually correct, for once, but we don’t have time for that.” Swiss pinched his mask’s nose, a very human gesture, not something you’d expect from some kind of hellspawn. “So please, keep your hands to yourself, and your tongue in your damned mouth.”

Dewdrop scuffed his polished shoe against the ground, tail wrapping around his middle. “Wow, neither of you are any kind of fun. I wish Aether was here. He’d go right along with it.”

Given the low groan that slid out of Swiss, it was apparent that the ghoul wished Aether was here instead of him, too.

The pleasure den went by the name of Bordello and it was three stories tall. Somehow it was also one of the nicest looking places on the Junker that Phobos had seen. “Morningstar, that’s a lot of iniquity.” Dew thrilled, rubbing his hands together, tail waggling excitedly. “You can practically _taste_ the sin.”

“...What did I say about the tongue, Dew?”

He stuck it out at Swiss before grabbing Phobos’s hand, dragging him inside. “You’re like a deer in the headlights, so skittish.” Dewdrop tutted as Phobos scrambled behind him. “If you keep that up they’ll swallow you whole.”

 _I don’t frequent brothels, Dewdrop_. Phobos informed him dryly, causing the ghoul to laugh out loud.

 _Really? I couldn’t tell. You should, they’re fun. Especially here. Back where we come from, everyone is almost the same on the surface. But you’ve got everything imaginable here._ There were hands and other things grazing off his shoulders, slipping under his armor, trying to pull him close. _It’s a good thing they can’t see that cute face of yours,_ älskade. Dew’s tail whipped out suddenly, snapping against someone’s wrist, causing them to pull away. “Hands off, he’s mine.”

 _Dew._ Phobos eyed him through the glass, lips flattening out in disapproval.

The ghoul shrugged. _I’m not wrong._

They ought to be asking questions, talking, doing something that wasn’t making their way further into the brothel, but aimlessness consumed them. It was such a different dynamic with the ghoul, Phobos couldn’t help but think. His reasonings and purpose were so unlike anything he had ever experienced before with his friends. Something about it was kind of thrilling in a way. Sung would never do anything like this with him. Meouch maybe… but there wasn’t any kind of second thought or need to reason it out when it came to the ghouls. He was simply here alongside them, making the best of it.

 _...Hey Dew._ Phobos swallowed as he called out to the other. The ghoul tilted his head towards him slowly, and even though he didn’t have the means to do so, Phobos could swear the other raised an eyebrow at him. _I think you’re right. I stick out like a sore thumb._ He swallowed again and glanced away, cheeks heating up once more. No one was going to really approach them if they kept this up.

 _Oh,_ _älskade?_ The ghoul let out a soft sound as he neared, sounding both eager and fond. _What do you have in mind?_

The Lepid reached up and pressed hesitant fingers to the silver of Dew’s face, tracing his fingers down to it’s sharp edges before bringing them up again over his cheekbones and jawline, watching the way the ghoul shivered with it, thrilling with it. _Something like this, to start._

The ghoul smiled. _Now that, I can manage._

 

-

Phobos stared back at himself in shock.

The mask was black and gold leafed and in the shape of butterfly wings, covering just enough of his face to keep his identity hidden away while letting his mouth and jaw show. It almost matched his armor too, just a few shades off. “It’s perfect.” Dew said, sounding pleased. “Do you feel better now?”

“Much.” There was almost nothing to hide behind now, leaving himself completely bared. What an odd feeling. A liberating one.

“They suit you.” Something in the ghoul’s voice became soft as his fingers grazed curved edges. The scars where his wings ought to be strained and he gulped in a shallow breath in response, trying not to think about it too hard.

“ _Ä_ _lskade_.” All the teasing had gone from his voice, leaving something soft and foreign behind. Phobos closed his eyes and felt fire warm fingers upon his face. Something in him ached in response. You never realized how touch starved you were until someone touched you for real.

“We should go.”

Dewdrop scoffed but took the hint, stepping back. “You play so hard to get.” The ghoul teased, but his face was unreadable through his mask. _Shall we?_

They passed Swiss on their way out again, lounged out on a overstuffed couch with a lovestruck Leoian in his lap, the ghoul’s fingers working through her fur. The older ghoul was whispering something to her, not even bothering to look up at them, making his intentions painfully clear. “A drink?” Dew offered as they moved on ahead.

Phobos winced, knowing all too well that he was a gods damned light weight. Dew seemed to know this too, a hint of a smirk appearing under his mask in response. “I can drink for the two of us too, the Cardinal’s communion wine has helped me build a tolerance through the years.”

He touched his mask, almost certain it had melted away with how hot he was running. “No, I’ll… I’ll join too.” Phobos murmured before adding in a mental _gotta fit in, right?_

 _Exactly._ Something like liquid twilight in a glass found its way into his hands moments later, the tangy smell of citrus coming off of it. “Take a drink and we’ll make some rounds, maybe find some new friends as well.” Dewdrop was already throwing his back, not even flinching as he chugged it down.

He flicked his tongue out against the surface before taking a tiny sip. It was heavenly sweet, like what ambrosia ought to taste like. “Oh, Phobos, come now.” Dewdrop put his hands on his wrist and tilted the glass just so and Phobos had no choice but to drink it down. “Don’t waste a single drop.”

His lips left the rim and the world was already spinning as they did.

This… might have been a bad idea.

But fuck it. He didn’t always have to play it safe. He could be daring and dangerous. Phobos licked his lips, knowing full well that Dew was watching the whole thing. Liquid courage, he told himself. To do what normally might not be done.

It was easier to move without his jetpack and helmet on him. There was laughter and light all around him and the Lepid trilled with it, letting himself fall deeper into the moment. _Isn’t it nice to just let yourself go?_ Dew’s voice was husky low in his head as he moved closer. _To just enjoy yourself? It’s its own ritual, in a way._

“You talk too much.” Somehow they had ended up on a couch away from most everyone else. Phobos reached out, his fingers curling under the straps of Dewdrop’s suspenders, pulling him close. The ghoul smiled and brought his own hot hands onto Phobos’s shoulders, pushing him further back into the couch, pinning him there. He shouldn’t like it, but gods, he did.

“You act so quiet, so sweet.” Dewdrop spoke softly, reverently almost as the space closed between them. “But there’s something inside of you that wants out.”

The ghoul kissed Phobos with citrus sweet lips, causing his head to spin as the world blurred out. Gods, yes. Gods, please. They sank further down into the couch as Dewdrop obliged him, each kiss deeper and more desperate than the last. " _Ä_ _lskade_ .” Dew moaned into his mouth as his hands framed his hips. “ _Hoc est corpus meum_.”

“Translation?” Phobos gasped out, antennae curling.

Dewdrop pulled back with a pleased groan. “Just a bit of sacrilege.” His tongue darted out from under his mask before he pulled Phobos’s wrist up to his mouth. “It means ‘this is my body’ in the words of the enemy back home, but for me, for now, it means that you’re mine.” His lips pressed against his pulse, almost mirroring their earlier encounter.

“You’re awful.” Phobos whispered, delighted in the fact, feeling feather light and unlike anything he had ever felt or been before.

Dewdrop grinned. “I know.”

“You’re _both_ awful.”

Swiss stared down at them and Phobos couldn’t move fast enough. Distantly he heard Dewdrop laughing inside his head but he ignored it, scrubbing at his cheeks as he sat on the far edge of the couch, putting as much distance between him and the smaller ghoul as possible. How had that happened? So quick, so fast…

“I can’t wait to hear what information you found.” Swiss didn’t wait, already speaking over both of them. “Oh, wait, none whatsoever. What a surprise. Too busy swapping spit and sticking your hands down each other’s pants, it seems.”

“We did not!” Phobos choked out.

“Yes, because someone had to interrupt before we could.” Dew added in a prim voice, causing Phobos to screech into his palms. “No matter. I’m assuming you found out something, Swiss.”

Swiss sneered in response. “I ought to leave you here. Cardinal can find another guitarist like that, you little shit.” Wait, guitar? Dewdrop played guitar? More importantly they were both in a band? Talk about a small world. Phobos tilted towards their conversation, keeping his mouth shut.

“What’s a ritual without me, Swiss?” Dewdrop mused as he let himself fall back into the couch, stretching out comfortably, his tail wiggling about. “They adore me. You do too, don’t deny it.”

“Brat.” Swiss growled out.

“Bastard.” Dewdrop sang back.

“Ahem.”

They both looked over at Phobos. “...Did you… find out anything…?”

Swiss reached up and fixed his tie, casting his glance towards the floor. “There is a cult on this planet. They belong to Hecate.” Goddess of magic and sorcery in triple form, Phobos informed Dew when the ghoul gave a confused tilt of his head, payback for earlier. “Apparently a few of them got in over their heads. My friend got out before any of that, but she was friends with the woman before, said she had been acting strange ever since their last ritual.”

 _Hellmouth_ , his heart beat with it. “So when’s the next one?” Dewdrop asked the question that was begging to be asked. Swiss looked at him and smiled grimly out from under his mask.

“Tonight.”

_Hellmouth, hellmouth._

 

-

_I didn’t know you played guitar._

They were almost there, an apparently abandoned building where these cultists met weekly to do their spellwork and strange summons. Dewdrop cocked his head towards Phobos before giving a soft laugh.

 _Yes, I do. Swiss plays many instruments as well, and sings. Our band is a means for us to reach out to the masses to spread the word of Satan in the best way possible._ What a strange concept, but then again, look at him and TWRP… talk about the pot calling the kettle black. _I know we’ve mentioned the cardinal now several times. He is our current leader. He is a good man. Sometimes very silly, but also very ardent and committed to the cause. There is Papa Nihil as well, and Sister Imperator..._

Phobos managed his own snort, amused. _I play guitar too, although our band’s thing is to fight boredom. We come from two very different worlds. Literally._

 _I personally would view the Catholic church as boring, but that’s just me._ Dew nudged him and Phobos couldn’t help but smile behind his helmet. He hadn’t thrown away the mask. He couldn’t bear the thought. He had found a way to clip it to his belt and it rested now on his hip, winking up at him.

 _Perhaps, depending on how everything goes, I could hear you play_ älskade _._

The memory of Dew kissing him rose up, unbidden. He had kissed a handful of people before, but never like that. Never with such passion, such fire. The ghoul was watching him in such a way that Phobos knew that he knew. _Get out._ He snapped half heartedly.

 _I think it’s such a shame Swiss had to interrupt us._ Dew ho-hummed. _I really wanted to see how worked up I could get you. You poor, pent up thing._

 _You are gods awful_. Phobos warned.

_Nice try, but we both know I’m damned._

“I am going to kill both of you, no regrets.” Swiss’s tail was rigid as he stood in front of them, his hands clenched at his sides. It was almost like having Sung here. More often than not the empath would pick up on emotions without meaning to. For a moment, without thinking about it, his hand went up to his helmet. He ought to check in, let them know he was okay…

_There’s something inside of you that wants to get out._

It was still nameless, but Dewdrop had been right. Something in him was becoming agitated, desperate for a change. His hand dropped and his breath exhaled out of him in a rush, his heartbeat uneven until Dew touched his hand.

“Deep breaths, _älskade_. Unless you want my mouth on yours again so soon.”

 _Don’t tempt me_. Phobos said, causing Dew to purr.

“What did I say about killing?”

“Yes, you’re _killing_ the mood, Swiss!” Dew barked. “Morningstar, wait until I tell the Cardinal what a bore you were on our interdimensional travels!”

“Oh yes, because I’m the one he’s going to be upset at!” Swiss huffed, throwing his hands up.

Dew threw his up too. “Clearly!”

Phobos couldn’t help but laugh into his helmet’s mouthpiece and was surprised to see Swiss smile at him. Really smile. “Are you ready to take on a cult, Phobos?”

As ready as he could be, the Lepid supposed. He nodded and stepped closer, his toes curling inside his shoes. He looked at Dew and the smaller ghoul looked back with his lack of eyes, the dark pits of his mask staring back instead.

 _For luck_. The other said before pressing his lips to Phobos’s mouthpiece. The Lepid’s shoulders shot up but Dewdrop was already dancing away through the building’s open doors, all too easy to lose in the dark.

“Fucker’s going to get himself killed, the _fåne_.” Swiss shook his head and went after him, leaving Phobos to stand there for a moment before he began to race after them too, not wanting to be left behind in the growing smoke screen of fog.

_What shadow knocks to mock our glee? And you, my strange adhesive flee. What black spat back?_

_Hellmouth._

For a moment Phobos was certain he had heard the words in the air, but then he realized it was inside his head. _Dew._ He called out, throat going tight with the realization.

 _You’re not alone._ The ghoul called back. _We heard it too._

He let out a shaky breath and touched the respirator on his helmet, relishing in the sensation even if he didn’t need it in that moment. The chanting grew in tandem, voices overlapping in his head. _What sorrows fill our bodies still?_ _Though we defy the witch’s will. What black spat back?_

_Hellmouth._

...A lone bell, a summon...

Whatever it was, they were calling it once more.

He met Swiss’s eyes over the distance and realized that the older ghoul had come to the same understanding. They had to find them before it happened, if it hadn’t already begun. “Dewdrop.” Swiss whispered his friend’s name, clapping a hand on his shoulder, his voice carrying in the endless night. “Little flame- I think it’s time for you to shine.”

The smaller ghoul tipped his head back and issued a low and satisfied laugh. “Swiss. I thought you’d never ask.”

Dew cast one glance over his shoulder in Phobos’s direction, managing half a smile before he erupted into an ineffable pillar of fire and flame. The only way to describe the sight was magnificent, because it wasn’t a thing of glory when it came to the ghoul. Glory was saved for angels and gods. This was _hellfire_. The flame of the dead.

There were shrieks, human and not, as the entire warehouse filled with the damning light, and finally Phobos had to look away. The image of Dew swallowed up by light still burned across his brain. Swiss dropped to the ground and raised a knife above his head, ready for the hunt, the silver of his mask turned into a beacon by the fire ghoul’s unceasing flame.

This is what you asked for. What you called into our world without second thought. He had been lucky enough to earn their friendship, but when his companions were like this, Phobos became painfully aware of the fact that they were born of brimstone and desolation, of things better left untouched and unsaid.

The light was lessening and Dewdrop was becoming himself again. Phobos saw him without his mask for a moment, his true face revealed. Onyx skinned and fire veined, with too large claws and a broken horn upon his head. He turned towards Phobos, his head listing to the left.

 _Are you afraid?_ Dewdrop asked him in a voice that was not his own.

Phobos blinked and took a step forward. _No,_ he admitted truthfully. _I don’t think so._

There was that smile then in full, light from the inside out moments before the last of the light faded and Dew shifted into his usual form. He fell to the floor gracelessly and Phobos ran to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders before he tested for his pulse, uncaring of how hot he felt, if he burned his fingers and skin...

Somewhere, someone was screaming. He knew it wasn’t him. Everything seemed too quiet in that moment. Impossible. It was like he was in space again, except it wasn’t endless possibility. It was a too soon ending. Something that he couldn’t stand.

Phobos ripped his helmet off and pressed his mouth to Dewdrop’s, a momentary, accidental kiss before he remembered himself and began to breathe air into his lungs. Damn his chest for feeling so small, for his lungs every time they ached. “Don’t go.” Gods, something like this was akin to Deimos, to the burning of his home planet all over again.

“ _Ä_ _lskade.”_

The word was spoken against his mouth. Phobos gasped but didn’t move an inch, too afraid that he’d break the illusion if he did so. “How did I taste?”

Phobos gave a choked cry and buried his face against Dew’s chest, causing the ghoul to cough violently. Before he could apologize the ghoul tangled his fingers in his hair, bringing him up gently to press their lips together. “I hear your heart flutter, Phobos. I feel it’s ache.” The other touched him carefully, his palms undeniably warm as they smoothed up his chest. “Free it and think not of consequence, or regret. Feel everything fully, without doubt. Let yourself be free.”

“...You really do talk too much.” The Lepid managed, tears choking his words beyond recognition. It didn’t matter because Dew was kissing him again and again and again until there was nothing left but the heat of his hands and the beat of Phobos’s heart.

“You know, some help would be appreciated. But I understand if you’re busy. Really, I do.”

This time he didn’t jump away. He stayed tangled up in Dew’s arms as he looked up to find Swiss covered in blood. Were they all dead? Had he really done that, Phobos wondered with a wince. Swiss tapped his foot against the ground, shaking his head, clearly annoyed. “Good news first, I guess. I got all the little cultists tied up and put somewhere safe. The bad news is that they managed to open their stupid shit gate and none of them know how to close it.”

Dew let out a confused noise. "What does that mean?"

“It means I’m already tired of killing all the lesser demons coming through it, dipshit.”

 _Hellmouth, hellmouth_. They had done it. Those crazy bastards had really done it. “The first time they pulled us through, and then the hellmouth got into their head, trying to convince them to replicate the success. And now we’re here, I guess.” Swiss gestured with his knife before sheathing it with an annoyed sound.

“Then we close it.” Phobos murmured and Swiss laughed in response, dry and forced.

“You make it sound so easy, _litet barn.”_ The ghoul shook his head once more. "It's not."

“It could be.” Dew piped up, having picked up on Phobos’s line of thought. “It could be as easy as us just going home.”

Swiss gave them a confused look and Phobos began to explain. “Hecate… isn’t just the goddess of magic and sorcery. Crossroads too, entrance-ways.”

“...Oh…”

They all looked at each other. Somewhere in the distance another demon was crawling out, and they’d have to deal with it. Swiss was right though. They couldn’t keep this up forever. They just couldn’t. “You have to go.” They had been planning on doing such, anyways. It shouldn’t come as such a heartbreak, and yet here Phobos was, feeling like he was breaking into two.

“ _Ä_ _lskade._ Phobos.” Dew’s callused fingers found his cheek, turning his face so they were facing one another. _This doesn’t mean good-bye._

 _You don’t know that._ He felt like he was about to cry.

 _No tears. Not for me, most definitely not for Swiss. He doesn’t deserve it._ Dewdrop’s warm lips found his cheek, landing upon his skin once, twice, three times. “I mean it when I say it. This doesn’t mean goodbye.”

Dewdrop’s mouth fell upon his for the final time. “Think of me, always.” The ghoul murmured softly. “In your song and in your heart, Phobos.”

“Dew-” Phobos started, but the ghoul was slipping out from under him, standing tall. “I-”

The fire ghoul pointed a finger at him. “Don’t say it. Seriously.”

So what? How did they part ways if not without a goodbye? Swiss stood there silently, not saying anything, his gaze averted once more. “Then… thank you…” For the wildest hours of his life.

“There we go.” The larger ghoul sighed out before unsheathing his knife. “Thank you, Phobos _._ I’m glad we met.” He went first, leaving him and Dew behind.

The ghoul trotted up to him and pressed something into his hand, closing his fingers over it. “Don’t look until I’m gone.” And while the last kiss should have been, well, the last, suddenly Dew was kissing him again. “No tears, no goodbyes. Just this.” Dew’s fingers found his, tangling them together. _A moment suspended in time._

Phobos closed his eyes and let himself relish in it.

The strange comfort of it, the blissful happenstance, the endless possibility.

Dewdrop pulled away too soon, too fast, kissing him one final, final time before turning towards Swiss and the waiting hellmouth.

“Don’t you die on me!” Phobos yelled after him, the loudness of his voice surprising him. Dew threw a smile over his shoulder, tail curling, mask catching in the moonlight.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He couldn’t bear to watch it, so Phobos turned away and counted until five minutes had passed silently inside of his head. He made his way to where the hellmouth had been after enough time had passed, finally uncurling his fingers from whatever Dew had placed into them.

A white guitar pick winked back at him, and his heart ached with it, in both good ways and bad.

The Lepid stood there for just a while longer before putting his helmet on, sighing into the mouthpiece. _Goodbye,_ he finally said, unable to help himself, because there was no going back from this. No changing the future now.

_C’mon now, Phobos, what did I just say?_

Phobos jumped. Looking left, right, up, down. _Dewdrop…?_ He finally ventured after a moment, both nervous and hopeful at the same time.

 _What did I tell you? You’re still bound to me,_ älskade _. You can’t get rid of me that easily_ . The ghoul laughed in his head. _No matter how hard you try._

Phobos closed his fingers around the guitar pick and smiled.

_I wouldn’t have it any other way._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Look at the Fire (And Think of Me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115100) by [doc_boredom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doc_boredom/pseuds/doc_boredom)




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